


the taste of ash on my lips, sweet bruises on my hips.

by prettyboi



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Music, Anger Management, Depression, Drugs, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Heavy Angst, Heavy Drinking, M/M, Self-Harm, Slow Build, Substance Abuse, Underage Smoking, What Have I Done, music student yuri
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-02-08
Updated: 2017-02-19
Packaged: 2018-09-22 19:15:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,994
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9621767
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/prettyboi/pseuds/prettyboi
Summary: It was only a matter on time before he broke.He couldn't remember the last time he had come home unharmed, when there wasn't a spray of purple bruises adorning his hips, when he wasn't buzzed from the cigarette hanging between his pale lips. When was the last time he brought himself to care, self destructive behaviour was his speciality, was it not?He yearned to feel again, to shake away the numbness that clouded his senses, his thoughts. He would tug at those blond locks, slice at thin wrists, watch himself burn.Or in which Yuri is burning himself out, and Otabek can't help but be drawn to the light like a moth drawn to a flame.DISCONTINUED





	1. Let me burn

**Author's Note:**

  * For [A close friend of mine!! shes so sweet.](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=A+close+friend+of+mine%21%21+shes+so+sweet.).



> Hey! Pretty boy here, though you guys can call my Billy. 
> 
> This fic will be pretty dark, I'm not going to lie. It's going to be covering a lot controversial issues, uncensored. And whilst it will turn up towards the end, I wouldn't hope for alot of fluff lmao. 
> 
> this is the first thing I have posted here? however I consider myself to be pretty good at writing, but I'll leave you to be the judge, 
> 
> Enjoy I guess?? comments and kudos are greatly appreciated. 
> 
> I'm an attention whore for praise and feedback, pls.

Could the sensation of being _numb_ be classified as a feeling?

Yuri couldn’t help but wonder over the question for several minutes, the youth standing in the doorway of his first hour class, leaning almost lazily against the door frame.

Forest green eyes hastily scoured the halls, hands shoved deep into the pockets of dark skinny jeans, torn open at the knees. His almost signature blue and red baseball jacket was emblazoned with the Russian symbolism and patches, slung over a white shirt, just barely covering slender shoulders. He was perhaps one of the first people to arrive, one of the few souls to stumble through the school gates so early. 

Perhaps it was the peace that the silence offered that enticed him to wander in at this time, to let his fingers run wild across the key board, to strum at the strings pulled taught across his guitar, currently hanging over his shoulder, neck pointing down. However, today he was content with just observing, features falling into their customary glare, the corners of his mouth downturned. 

There was a cigarette dangling between his pale lips, smoke gently rising every time he exhaled, not before he pulled the overgrown locks, once falling fast is shoulders, into a messy knot upon the top of his head. Bangs messily covered his forehead, framing sharp features, strands tucked behind pierced ears. 

"Yuri! Smoking isn't good for beautiful your singing voice _идиот_ , how many times do I have to tell you." 

The younger teen curled his fingers in disgust, turning to confront the obnoxious voice, eyes falling on that familiar mop of silver locks. Those green orbs rolled, as he exhaled a particularly large flume of smoke, cocking his head to the side. His gaze narrowed, lips curling in an aggressive manner. 

" _Fuck off Victor_ , I'm not ten, you don't have act like some wannabe parent, mудак, go find your new number one fan, _I'm sure he deserves your **attention**._ " His words were harsh, gritted out through almost clenched teeth. He had taken a few steps towards the other, leg now raised and pressed against the wall, the blond leaning forward and looking up into those frost blue eyes with a look almost as cold. 

Their brief conversation ended almost as suddenly as it had started, with Yuri turning away, a frustrated sigh filling the tense silence. Once the sound of foot steps had faded near the halls, he let out a deep breath, unaware he had been holding it in for so long. 

This is what it had come to, pushing _them_ away until they didn't care - perhaps he liked it better that way though, if people didn't worry, perhaps they wouldn't be disappointed with his behaviour. If they didn't worry, he wouldn't have to deal with the consequences of letting things spiral until he had no grasp. 

If Yuri had anything to say - which he did, _things were better this way._ He preferred his solitude, he had control, yet he allowed himself to be pulled with the ever turbulent currents, sinking deeper. 

He allowed his body to fall against the nearby wall, sinking into a messy sitting position on the carpeted floor, legs sprawled, guitar in lap. His slender fingers round their rightful place on the frets, strumming a few half hearted chords. He stubbed his smoke out on the carpet, flicking the burnt paper into the nearby bin. 

_"I meet you in the dark, you lit me up_

_You made me feel as though I was enough_

_we danced the night away, we drank too much_

_I held your hair back when_

_you were throwing up."_

His voice was rough and mellow, his accent thinning out as he tapped his foot against the floor gently, so raw that the youth felt tears prickling. He had to pause - just for a split second, to wipe them away hastily, his expression remaining as cold as it had been when he had arrived.

" _Then you smiled over your shoulder_

_for a minute, I was stone-cold sober_

_I pulled you closer to my chest_

_And you asked me to stay over._

_I said, I already told you_

_I think that you should get some rest._

_I knew I loved you then  
_

_But you'd never know  
_

_Cause I played it cool when I was scared of letting-"_

He was cut off by some hurried yelling, squeals of his name and frantic "He's singing! I heard him" The very words caused him to visibly tense, before Yuri scrambled to his feet, almost sprinting out of the classroom, bag hanging off one shoulder, guitar on his back once more. 

How he was popular enough to elicit this kind of attention was beyond Yuri. He came from a Russian family, moving to Europes top music academy at age fourteen. Since the passing of his grandfather, He had resorted to boarding at the dorms, a tricky custody battle leaving him in legal limbo, trying to escape from the hand he had been dealt. 

"Jesus christ-" He had to stop for a second, leaning over slightly to catch his breath. They were still somehow after him, hurried foot steps echoing through the hallways. He kept on going, finding himself in the adjoining gardens, the college campus just a hundred metres beyond the grass. The academy had a sister university, sharing the same area. It wasn't uncommon for college students to tutor the high schoolers, or for the high schoolers to use the college facilities. 

He caught sight of the music hall, and ran as fast as his long legs could take him, occasionally checking behind him to see if he was being followed. It wasn't long before he skidded to a halt, violently slamming the door behind him. He sighed in relief, unfortunately however, his relief was short lived, his green eyes meeting dark brown. They skimmed over the taller male, from the dark undercut to his broad shoulders, expressionless features and confident posture. 

Yuri's thoughts were cut short by that horrid squealing, and the realisation had hit the stranger also. 

It happened almost too fast, the figure rushed forwards, as the teen felt an arm around his waist, another covering his mouth, before his back was pressed hard against the others chest. Yuri thrashed in protest, but the stranger help fast, his bulkier build able to hold the youth with ease.  

 

_"This way."_

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 2 chapters in 2 days, wow go me.
> 
> this is kind of a bit of prologue??? the drama will happen soon dw kiddos
> 
> also wow people actually read my trash??? what?????????? love u guys
> 
> also feed me attention comments and kudos who needs food when u can be a shameless attention whore
> 
> billy out lmao

" _Fuck_ \- Let me go!"

Yuri was finally placed down, not before the pair had taken shelter behind the curtains, stage left. He was left awkwardly on the wooden floor, leaning against the timpani drums. He immediately pulled on an unamused expression, eyes thinned into their customary glare. He tried to search the older man's face for any sign of emotion, any anger, curiosity, anything. He did notice however, that those dark eyes bore a similar disposition to his own, dull yet unyielding, witness to horrors that words are yet to be able to describe. It almost brought him a sense of comfort, but the youth was far too angry to stay intrigued by the stranger.

"What the- _what the actual fuck_ do you think you are doing?" His harsh words punctured the silence, accusing the stranger with a loud voice and wild hand gestures, standing slowly. His tirade of anger was followed by an exasperated sigh, before Yuri pulled out another smoke, lighting it quickly with the black lighter stashed in his pockets. His gaze was still somewhat focused on the brunette, who was eyeing the cigarette carton with a slightly curious expression. He watched as the college student went to open his mouth, he seemed to be pondering on what to say, and Yuri couldn't help but notice just how long the others lashes were.

"Why do you smoke Yuri?" The question was simple enough, a deep, honey rich voice catching Yuri by surprise. It seemed genuine, a gentle tone so very different to the voices he was used to. Most would come up with excited, loud words, screaming about topics the musician couldn't care less about. He was expecting anger, rage, the yelling, twisted pitches he had come to use regularly. "How- It's none of your business." _Because slowly destroying my health helps me to feel_  . His dangerous habits were caused by the numbness Yuri couldn't shake, how the world almost seemed devoid of colour, a grey blue of white noise and minimal noise. Music had grown dull, his interests no longer amused him, but somehow, inflicting pain had given him that feeling he craved. Smoking was just another self destructive behaviour he exhibited, at least the nicotine eased the hurt. 

While he had found it weird that the other new is name, it wasn't an uncommon occurrence, he had somehow build up the reputation, however it was mainly girls who knew his name. His response was short, gritted out through clenched teeth. He couldn't hold a grunge against the stranger for too long, and finally, his twinge of curiosity began to show. 

" _Who the hell are you?_ You know my name, it's only fair." He emphasised the question, cocking his head to the side in a show of his curiosity, while his cold expression remained.

"Otabek Altin, music performance major." The words were nonchalant, an informative tone, stoic and free from major changes in pitch. Yuri hummed in response, exhaling for a second, a large plume of smoke gently curling from pale lips. "You sing?" Was his next question, looking over at Otabek with a slightly softer expression, more passive than his usual demeanour. He watched lazily as Otabek nodded, the youth puffing out another cloud.

A quick glance at the clock sitting above the door gave Yuri the indication that he needed to get to class, causing the blond to gather his bag, and stride towards the exit.

Turning back, he yelled a quick "Before you get all pissy about it, thanks.", the tone borderline sarcastic, yet it was possibly the kindest thing he had said in the last week. That didn't mean he liked Otabek, far from it, the male was closed off, too, confident, sure of his actions. It ticked him off, how he managed to remain so composed.

" _Fucking hell._ " He murmured under his breath, gripping his lighter a little too tightly.

_________________________

Yuri's head rested against the desk, hair strewn over his crossed arms, face buried in the crook of his elbow. He had pulled his hair from the messy bun, allowing the now wavy strands to fall free. He felt someone tap at his shoulder, a classmate trying to wake him up before the next period of composition and theory studies. He stirred, turning groggily to face a person he had no care in getting to know. 

"Fuck off." He mumbled, carding a hand through pale golden locks. He flipped up a middle finger, before facing the front once more, propping his head up on his left hand, drumming his nails against the desk. Yuri groggily tried to focus on the teachers face, blinking a few times until he was able to recognise the ageing professor, Yakov. He was the main music professor, ruled with an iron fist and strict code of conduct, he was unrelenting and more stubborn than an ox. The pair would often clash heads, each refusing to give up their reasoning. Their arguments were frequent and nasty.

Yet Yuri loved it. 

The loud booming voice quickly brought Yuri out of his slumber, however his posture didn't change, one leg lazily crossed over the other. 

"You will be working with partners from our sister college, reread through your term syllabus, you two will be performing a duet for the upcoming open day, the performance will be held in the auditorium over at the college campus, those who are late will get an immediate fail, tardiness will not be excused." The groans were audibly loud and obnoxious, but that didn't mean that Yuri didn't participate in it. "Listen carefully, your partners have already been chosen, there will be no changing, or swapping of partners. Once you have answered to your name, your partner's will be called out after. You have been matched to students who major in the same instrument. Singers with singers, violinists with violinists, even the dumbest in this class should be able to understand." Yakov sounded almost bored, flipping through paper of the role seemingly without a care in the world. 

Yuri had zoned out for most of the role call, however his eyes widened ever so slightly when his name was called. "Here," He called out, half heartedly raising a hand to signal his teachers attention. "You, your paired with the singer Otabek Altin." He let his head hit the desk with a "thud", nodding to acknowledge he had heard Yakov's statement. 

The front door to their lecture hall was opened, as a small group of college students flooded in. Yuri's eyes traced over each of the new faces, observing new features, until his eyes lay bare on that now familiar mess of dark hair. 

 


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so like lol this ends pretty abruptly but b u t shits going down in the next couple chapters and its time to destroy this kids life :))))))))
> 
> its kinda longer but schools a bitch so unless you guys want like monthly updates, its going to stick around the 2000 mark for now.
> 
> thanks for reading kiddos

Yuri's eyes dragged lazily over Otabek, drinking in each minute detail, the curve of his high cheek bones, just how long his bottom lashes were. He was almost, curious about his new partner, despite how opposed he was to the idea of remotely interacting with him. He didn't want to allow someone else to get close, to break the incredibly fragile wall he had built, pushing down those thoughts of how he could redeem himself. He'd long since locked away those ideas, opting to wallow in toxic ideologies and dangerous decisions. Yuri let his gaze drop, eyes downcast, long pale lashes fluttering ever so slightly, before he took the risk of meeting eyes with the other. He raised a blond brow, tapering to a sharp point, questioning just what Otabek would do, a silent challenge.

"Work on this for the rest of the lesson, you can work wherever, but if any of you are not back five minutes before period end, expect a week of Saturday detentions, you hear me?" Yakov's booming voice sounded once more, it didn't take long for another collective groan to spread throughout the group of students, as they began to slowly disperse. "I want to go outside." Yuri broke the silence between the pair, using a demanding tone, not breaking eye contact. He wanted to see this guy tick, to see how far he could push it until Otabek snapped. He had a habit of purposely pushing peoples buttons, stirring them up for a few moments of amusement, it often brought a smirk to his lips, a slightly sadistic trait that often caused those who had once admired him to look at him with blatant expressions of disgust. Perhaps if he was nicer, he'd be on the receiving end of good fate, but Yuri couldn't help but find enjoyment out of his sick hobbies, to watch people squirm. 

But to his displeasure, Otabek's expression stayed the same, a passive gaze meeting his own cold glare. He replied simply with "Ok." Causing a huff of annoyance from the younger musician. Picking up his bag, Yuri started to make his way towards the door, placing nimble fingers on Otabek's back to push him forward. "Hurry up moron." Was uttered under a single breath, as he haphazardly tucked his hair behind an ear, before shoving his hands roughly into his pockets.

 "Where do we want to go." Yuri's voice was harsh and bitter, not bothering to conceal his dislike of the situation. However, Otabek seemed to be unmoved, which only ticked him off more. "I know a place." The older male spoke after an almost awkward pause of silence, no hint of anger or frustration present. With a frustrated huff, Yuri nodded, following the older singer as they wandered through the grounds.

It wasn't long before they ended up near an overgrown courtyard, a few benches scattered over a lush green lawn, a large oak tree situated in the centre. The leaves were steadily turning brown, with a few having already fallen. Vines were scaling the walls of nearby buildings, sheltering the space from the view of others. It was clear the place had been long forgotten, maintenance hadn't cut the plants back in what seemed to be years. He had to admit, it was beautiful, allowing himself to drop the scorn for a few moments. Yuri took a seat on the ground, leaning his back against one of the now fading white wooden seats. Otabek sat beside the youth, however he sat on the bench, with Yuri's head coming up above and beside his legs. With a stifled yawn, Yuri stretched his arms up above his head, clasping his hands together, arching his back with feline grace. He reached forward and touched his toes with little effort, trying to ease the exhaustion aching in his bones.

Pulling the guitar onto his lap, Yuri fiddled with the pegs for a few seconds, before exhaling loudly, allowing his hands to rest on his instrument. "For fuck sake- what are we going to sing, do you have any preference? Or should I just pick. We do have to do a duet." He was growing impatient, restless, fidgeting with his fingernails. He turned to look over at Otabek, green eyes meeting brown, before he glanced off to the side once more. "Something stupid, The Robbie Williams and Nicole Kidman rendition. Would that work." The college student spoke up, leaning forward slightly. "Right." Yuri gritted out, spending a few seconds to try and remember the chords. "You take the male part; I have a higher vocal range 'kay." It wasn't so much a request, rather a demand, an order. He wasn’t ashamed at his demanding personality, it was as if he had control over the situation, something he desperately craved.

When the other student nodded, Yuri took the time to strum out some of the chords, plucking at the stings with somewhat long nails and extreme precision, a slow introduction to a song he had only heard a couple times. Whilst the chords may have been done by ear, he prided himself in his almost perfect memory, able to lock away countless stores of musical knowledge, plus he always had a weakness for Frank Sinatra. Gazing down, he paused slightly, before waiting for their time to come in,

 

“I know I stand in line until you think you have the time

  
To spend an evening with me

  
And if we go someplace to dance, I know that there's a chance

  
You won't be leaving with me

  
And afterwards we drop into a quiet little place and have a drink or two

  
And then I go and spoil it all by saying something stupid like ‘I love you’”

 

Yuri almost spluttered when he heard Otabek sing properly, his eyes widened slightly. The voice was honey like, rich and thick, reaching the notes with ease. It was pitched lower than Yuri’s, whose singing was sweet, and despite the personality behind it, sounded almost innocent, pulling on a façade that he was more than happy to play.

 

I can see it in your eyes

  
That you despise the same old lies you heard the night before

  
And though it's just a line to you, for me it's true

  
And never seemed so right before  
  
I practice every day to find some clever lines to say

  
To make the meaning come through

  
But then I think I'll wait until the evening gets late and I'm alone with you

  
The time is right, your perfume fills my head, the stars get red and, oh, the night's so blue

  
And then I go and spoil it all by saying something stupid like "I love you"

 

Yuri started to push a little harder, a silent invitation to go louder, bigger, a grin gracing his lips. Their voices were starting to carry past the courtyard, the blond starting to put more effort into into his playing, tapping the wood in between chords.

 

The time is right, your perfume fills my head, the stars get red and, oh, the night's so blue

  
And then I go and spoil it all by sayin' something stupid like "I love you"  
  
I love you

  
I love you

  
I love you

 

I love you.

 

He took some shaky breaths in, finally breathing properly after the entirety of the song. His grin dropped, “You’re not bad.” He murmured, it carried a hint of admiration, not that he’d ever admit it. He leant back against the chair, letting his head loll to the side and rest against Otabek’s thigh, pulling his hair over his shoulder. “You a boarder?” The blond asked, raising a brow, curious to see whether the foreign student was similar to him in some way.

 

“Yeah, I transferred from Kazakhstan, you?” Yuri hummed, nodding slightly, letting his eyes fall upon the mess of ivy growing upon the walls of the courtyard. “ _Russia_.” It was one word, but it held so much meaning. “Thought the accent gave it away.” The comment was offhanded, but it earned a chuckle from the the older boy. He reached into his pocket, pulling out the now slightly crumpled packet of cigarettes. “You smoke?” He asked Otabek, holding out the pack, waiting as the other foreign student took one. It wasn’t much of a surprise that the other smoked, he did have the smallest suspicion that he did, it wasn't uncommon.

 

Yuri flicked the on lighter once more, drawing the flame to the paper, Otabek bringing the cigarette to his lips, before lighting it from the same flame. The Czech native rested his elbows on his things, bringing a hand down to card through the blond locks that belonged to a person that intrigued him. Yuri for once, didn’t move away, allowing the older male to sate his curiosity, feeling the fingers pull through the tangles, gently pulling the strands apart, scratching against his scalp.

 

He enjoyed the small moment of peace, watching the smoke curl once more, finding the scent of the smoke almost calming, despite how much others hated it.

 

“Come to dorm 24 after classes, a block.” When a voice sounded after perhaps, twenty minutes, Yuri let his eyes open lazily, turning around to meet those brown eyes. “You have something to drink right? I’m down.” Standing, up slowly, Yuri pulled his guitar back over his back, pulling his hair back up into a messy bun. He gestured towards where they came from, a brief head nod, as the older man stood. “Yakov is waiting.” The blond sounded, shoving his hands back into his pocket once more, stubbing the smoke under his shoe.

 

The pair moved towards the auditorium, Yuri trailing behind Otabek, unsure of where they were. The walk was fairly brief, with both of them reaching the class a few minutes before dismissal. They sat back near the back of the classroom, Yuri perched on the desk while Otabek took the chair. He listened as Yakov dismissed the group, before the two groups split towards their respective campuses.

 

_________________________

 

Pale knuckles rapped against the wooden door, “Open up придурок! I’m fucking freezing out here.” Pushing all of his weight onto one hip, picking at the dirt under his nails. Once the door swung open, he waltzed in, dropping his bag near the door. His eyes wandered around the dorm, the fairly neat, almost bland room appealed to the youth, who took a seat on the bed, flopping down on the soft doona. Otabek took a seat next to him, lying down with more grace than the youth.

 

“I don't want to move" Yuri grumbled, turning to the side ever so slightly, adjusting to be more comfortable. 

"I'll get something to drink," Otabek sat up, rummaging through a cupboard, before tossing a can to the high schooler. "You can thank me later" caused Yuri to glare, flipping up the middle finger, much to the amusement of Otabek.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> придурок - dork/nerd etc

**Author's Note:**

> translations (forgive me, may have used google translate):
> 
> идиот - idiot  
> mудак - asshole


End file.
